


Je T'aime

by altaiir



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altaiir/pseuds/altaiir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" Jean had tried to deny it.<br/>Jean Dareau Bisset had been trying to deny it since his first day with the other Assassins. 'It', however, was not giving up or going down anytime soon. 'It' was the perfectly-established attraction towards a certain Assassin; a certain Assassin of whom he couldn't help but meet eyes with when he was sure that the other two had averted their eyes. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Je T'aime

Jean had tried to deny it.  
Jean Dareau Bisset had been trying to deny it since his first day with the other Assassins. 'It', however, was not giving up or going down anytime soon. 'It' was the perfectly-established attraction towards a certain Assassin; a certain Assassin of whom he couldn't help but meet eyes with when he was sure that the other two had averted their eyes. What really got Jean going, however, was when that certain Assassin found it necessary to wiggle his eyebrows flirtatiously as their eyes locked with each other's. That was a move guaranteed to make Jean blush and look away, which got him a smirk from the certain Assassin.  
God, he was envious of how well the man controlled him. Jean felt like a young child's toy, prodded and thrown around carelessly, when all he wanted to do was play. This very thought is what gave Jean his latest plan. It was simple, really - two could play at this game.  
It was a humid Saturday afternoon in Paris, around three o'clock, with the usual angry, rioting mobs outside of various aristocrats' homes, throwing home or hand-made weapons and screaming abuse at the top of their lungs.  
Arno Dorian, the self-acclaimed leader of their small group of four, had sent himself and the other Assassin, Orvil Padgett, to track down and assassinate a wanted murderer. This left Jean and the certain Assassin to their own devices, watching over the mob on a high-rise building's roof.  
Jean took in as much as he could of the certain Assassin. If this went wrong, he'd never get the opportunity to do such a thing again. Jean swallowed and opened his mouth to speak.  
"You look beautiful."  
Jean froze. "What did you just say?"  
Lestat Poulin gave him that heart-wrenching, arousing smirk. He repeated his words in a flirtatious tone of voice. "You look beautiful, ma cherie. Standing there so innocently..I do wonder if you planned on seducing me."  
"W-What?" Jean's brain couldn't keep up with his heart, "No. I would never - Lestat - I - I'm not -"  
"Not what, Bisset?" Lestat questioned him, giving him an intimidating stare.  
"I - Oh God, I'm sorry -" Jean's vocal chords stopped responding as Lestat started striding towards him.  
"Jean Dareau Bisset." Lestat growled huskily, "Why are you making so much trouble for me? Why don't you just be a good boy and let me fuck you?"  
"What - what are you talking about? Lestat?" Jean stumbled over his words confusedly.  
Lestat now had him backed up against a chimney. If it were at all possible for one's face to light on fire from a certain amount of blushing, Jean would've burnt to the ground at this stage. There was nowhere to escape to. Lestat had blocked-off any possible exit Jean might've had with his body.  
"Don't play coy with me, ma cherie." Lestat whispered in Jean's ear, causing the younger man to shake, "On every single mission we've ever been on together, you always give me the eye. And I give you it back with a little bit more...flirtation."  
Jean gulped. He didn't say a word.  
Naturally, Lestat continued whispering huskily into the younger French man's ear. "You have no idea what I've been thinking about recently..but I bet you've dreamt of it before, haven't you?"  
Jean finally built-up the courage to speak. "Lestat, please..I don't understand what you mean.."  
"You know what I mean." Lestat practically snarled into Jean's ear, his voice thick with lust, "But it appears I have to tell you my thoughts. Very well. I think about the way your hips sway when you walk, I think about the way your lips pucker when you speak and I dream contentedly of your beautiful, naked form in my chambers, writhing in-between the covers-"  
"LESTAT POULIN!!" Jean exclaimed in shock, his face a colour that could compete with the bright red tomatoes the rioting mobs were throwing.  
Lestat backed away a few steps, his mouth twisted into a full-out, sexy grin.  
God. This man was going to be the end of him.  
"Don't deny your feelings, ma cherie." Lestat teased him, stepping towards Jean again.  
Jean relaxed his back against the chimney. He wasn't going to stop Lestat. Why should he when their feelings for one another were mutual?  
Lestat rested his right arm above Jean's head and caved him in. Their lips pressed against each other's slowly and rhythmically, Lestat pulling Jean's hood off and running a hand through his oak-brown locks. "Je vais vas te faire encule."  
Jean's entire face burnt. "I -"  
Lestat put a finger to his lover's lips. "Hush, ma cherie. I won't make a beauty like you do anything here."  
"Alright, Lestat.." Jean murmured, "where are we going?"  
"Where do you think we are going, ma cherie?" Lestat replied with a smirk.  
"Your chambers..?"  
Lestat laughed in response. "You catch on fast. Let's just hope being fast doesn't apply to your orgasms. I want to savour what now belongs to me."


End file.
